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Bang! Bang! Bang!
At such close range, a large-caliber revolver could easily punch through thin metal plating. No matter how high a Werewolf's physical defenses, fur wasn't steel—bullets still tore flesh and drew blood.
The strongest combat method available to a Sequence 7 Magician of the Fool Pathway was the infamous Air Bullet. Eli Walker, however, preferred a more direct approach: using a real pistol.
Roar!
The Werewolf's body twisted, his figure flashing across the narrow street. Even with Eli's well-trained aim, the creature managed to block or evade most of the shots. Running on all fours with explosive bursts of strength, he was still difficult to track, despite being grounded.
Fortunately, Eli wasn't alone. Martin calmly joined the gunfight, his shots lacking Eli's accuracy but making up for it with sheer steadiness. Years of firearm experience created enough suppressive pressure to complicate the Werewolf's pursuit.
Alice, mid-stride, glanced back—and froze.
Her eyes locked onto the golden leash wrapped around Martin's neck, her lips parting in disbelief. Her pace slowed involuntarily.
It was this very leash, dug out from Eli's garden, that gave Martin the spiritual fortitude to remain composed under pressure. Initially, Eli had expected to retrieve a Bard's Beyonder characteristic, but instead, the characteristic had fused with the leash buried alongside it—producing a low-level Sealed Artifact.
Alice's voice cracked with irritation. "He's still chasing us? What is wrong with his head?"
Eli scoffed. "This is Backlund. At night. In the Bridge District."
"If you, a Light Supplicant, even so much as sing a hymn or release holy radiance, this idiot should be exploding from the inside out."
He did not reflect on the fact that he had just provoked the Werewolf with mirror manipulation. Instead, he simply blamed the recklessness of Fifth Epoch Beyonders.
"Werewolves that just fed become far more bloodthirsty," Alice muttered.
She gripped Eli's wrist. A golden light shone across the revolver in his hand, vanishing as quickly as it came.
She had infused it with divine attributes.
"Then let's kill him together," Eli said nonchalantly.
"This is Machinery Hivemind jurisdiction. Even if we make a mess, they'll investigate, realize our affiliations, and let us go."
Eli's current identity could withstand scrutiny. Alice's status as a Sun Church Beyonder was equally legitimate. The Church of the God of Steam and Machinery wouldn't pick a fight over procedural chaos.
Alice nodded. "Then let's kill him together!"
After applying another blessing to Martin's revolver, she took the chain from his hand. The golden radiance surged again, bathing the alley in holy light. Her singing followed—clear, reverent, inspiring.
Eli's spirituality stirred. He took a single step backward, falling behind Alice and Martin, raising his gun once more. With Martin moving forward, emboldened by the radiant hymn, the trio advanced through the straight alley.
No obstacles. No turns. The Werewolf, despite being Sequence 7, had nowhere to hide under this impromptu "spotlight" of divine power and overlapping suppressive fire.
Roar!
Werewolf Thale glared, gripping his injured flank.
He turned to flee.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Eli didn't miss the opportunity. He aimed for the Werewolf's legs, forcing him to stumble. Alice leapt forward, swinging the golden chain, attempting to snare him by the neck.
Martin followed, his bullets now brushing fur and flesh. Encouraged by the holy hymn, he surged ahead.
Eli remained behind. The cold wind slicing through the alley felt unnatural—feral.
It was as if ghostly hands were reaching for him.
An ominous wind, blowing from nowhere, twisted the chain's trajectory. The divine radiance dimmed.
Alice, sensing the change, panicked. She immediately summoned another Holy Light, enveloping herself, Martin, and Eli in radiant defense.
Eli's gun turned.
No longer aimed at the Werewolf.
Now, it pointed directly at Alice and Martin's exposed backs.
A figure flickered in his vision—black tailcoat, dark red cape, pallid face.
Wraith possession.
"I was waiting for you," Eli whispered, smirking faintly.
Mirror-light flickered in his eyes. The muzzle swerved, once again locking onto the Werewolf's arm.
Bang!
Blood exploded in the Werewolf's shoulder.
Thale, stunned, staggered—his instinct told him to flee.
Idiot, get out of here already! Eli cursed inwardly, silently sending a message through mirror-vision.
A green gleam swirled in his dark pupils. Thale suddenly snapped to clarity and dashed into the shadows, vanishing into the back alleys of Bridge District.
"Alice, Martin—don't pursue him," Eli called, lowering his weapon.
Alice stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She raised a finger and summoned another Holy Light, directing it toward Eli's chest.
This light didn't harm—it merely served to test alignments.
Eli remained motionless, expression unreadable.
The divine radiance passed over him. No reaction. No combustion. No backlash.
Of course it didn't. Sun Pathway abilities restrained Werewolves, Zombies, and Wraiths—not uncorrupted Secrets Supplicants or spiritualists like Eli.
He closed his eyes, then slowly reopened them.
"Shame," he muttered. "Almost had him."
"A shame indeed..." Martin echoed, disappointed.
But as Alice's singing ceased and the hymn's buff flared out, Martin's eyes widened with sudden clarity.
"No, Young Master—this is far too dangerous—"
"Stop talking. Let's get out of here."
Alice grabbed both men and yanked them back toward their original route, her eyes glowing faintly gold, scanning every shadow.
"Gentlemen. Lady."
A calm, authoritative voice cut through the air from the alley's mouth.
"You'll need to stay and explain yourselves. And first, please disarm."
From the fog-steeped intersection, a group of Machinery Hivemind agents emerged, led by a gentleman in a long black trench coat. A Church insignia shimmered faintly on his lapel.
Eli, Alice, and Martin shared a glance.
"Alright, Your Excellency," they replied in unison.
One by one, they squatted and laid down their weapons on the wet cobblestones—two revolvers and a chain artifact, glinting with residual divine glow.
As Eli stood up, something slipped from the folds of his robe—a black-covered book. It landed with a soft thump beside his foot.
"Ah, pardon me, sirs." He bent to retrieve it.
"Weapons can be put down," he said with a sheepish smile, "but principles cannot."
The silver-threaded title shimmered faintly: Night Revelation.
Deacon Ikanos Bernard stepped forward, eyes glancing at the tome. The tension visibly dissipated.
"We understand," he said with a nod. The rest of the team relaxed.
He gestured to two subordinates—one to collect the weapons and artifact, the other to examine the scorched corpse of Thale's former servant, still smoking with holy flames.
"So, gentlemen, lady..."
"Who would like to explain what just happened tonight?"
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